I spent several days wondering what to write about, with so many thoughts swirling in my mind. In the end, this felt like the right place to begin. My husband and I were invited by dear friends to attend Antwerp Pride — and I realized I hadn’t been to a Pride event in ages. The last one we attended was more than thirteen years ago, back when I lived in Asheville, North Carolina.
So on Saturday, August 8th, 2026, we headed to Antwerp with our daughter and our friends. We all rode together, knowing parking in the city can be limited. After navigating heavy traffic, we arrived around 2:00 PM, found a parking garage, and walked toward the center of Antwerp. Eventually we settled at a sidewalk table outside a local pub, enjoying drinks while waiting for the parade to begin. All around us, hundreds of people were filling the streets — greeting friends, finding their spots, and soaking in the anticipation.
Music echoed through the city, people danced, and the atmosphere grew lighter and more joyful by the minute. When the parade finally began, we cheered for every float and every group marching proudly down the street.
And then something washed over me — something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I reached over and held my husband’s hand openly, without hesitation. I hugged him, kissed him, and showed affection freely. That simple act, which many straight couples never have to think twice about, felt profound. For so many in the LGBTQ+ community, public affection can still carry fear: fear of judgment, ridicule, or even violent harassment. Yet here, in that moment, surrounded by celebration and solidarity, I felt safe. I felt seen. I felt free.
A Moment of Liberation
As the parade moved past us — a river of color, music, and unapologetic joy — something inside me loosened. It was subtle at first, like an exhale I didn’t know I’d been holding for years. But then it grew into something unmistakable: a sense of liberation.
I existed freely, without shrinking myself, without calculating risk, without the quiet tension that LGBTQ+ people often carry in public spaces. Pride reminded me how powerful it is to be in a place where authenticity isn’t just allowed, but encouraged. It’s not about flaunting anything; it’s about reclaiming the right to live fully and joyfully in the open.
Closing Reflection
The next day, as I scrolled through Facebook, I saw that more than 170,000 people had descended on Antwerp to celebrate Pride. The sheer number left me in awe. Post after post was filled with likes, hearts, and messages of joy and solidarity.
Of course, mixed in with all that love were the familiar voices of disapproval — a small minority calling the event “a freak show,” or insisting that LGBTQ+ people should “keep it at home.” Those comments didn’t surprise me, but they reminded me why Pride still matters. They reminded me why we gather, why we march, and why we continue to push for a more loving and inclusive society.
In my faith and belief, God is love — and we are all extensions of that love. No one should have to hide or live in fear simply because their love looks different from someone else’s. What I felt in Antwerp — that sense of freedom, safety, and liberation — is something every human being deserves.
And so I close with hope:
Hope for a world where we celebrate one another.
Hope for a world where love is never a reason for fear.
Hope for a world where everyone, everywhere, can live openly, joyfully, and without apology.
Here’s to building that world — together.
Michael / The Liberal Warrior